


Awoken

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Hair-pulling, Impact Play, Incest, Manhandling, Masochism, Painplay, Power Play, Pre-Canon, Punishment, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Underage Character, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Daenerys wondered if she'd woken the dragon at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awoken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink Penance/Punishment at [Kink Bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org).

Sometimes Daenerys wondered if it was the dragon she had awoken. Often she thought that perhaps there was some possibility that she’s woken something else in Viserys. Sometimes he’d jump on some off-hand remark or some careless gesture with just a little too much vigour, like he’d been waiting for it, just like she had. The glint in his eye would be a little bit too manic, a little bit too heated. Times like those made her heart pound in something more than terror and made her breath catch in something different to fear. She hated herself for not hating those moments.

She’d been breaking her fast when he came in her room and announced she was to be married. In her surprise the ornate tea cup she’d been sipping from slipped from her grip. Her hands made another grab for it but it was too late, it hit her knees, split its contents on her dress and bounced, falling to the floor, smashing like it were glass. She didn’t dare meet Viserys’ eyes. The whole set had been a gift from somebody, she didn’t recall whom but she remembered being told it was very expensive and not a toy like all her previous tea sets. In that moment she felt very much like the child that used to play at drinking the sweet teas of the Free Cities.

Viserys dismissed her servant calmly and walked over to her. He didn’t say a word and for a second she thought she’d be forgiven without punishment. She bit her lip, not sure whether that was what she wanted. She looked up to meet his eyes and the glint was there, she would be punished, he was just making her wait for it.

“Sweet brother, I didn’t...” she started but she silenced herself instantly when he raised his hand. She closed her eyes and turned her head, expecting to be struck. She opened them again when she heard an ungodly crash. The tea set stared up at her accusingly from its new place on the floor, each cup transformed into fifty new pieces of china.

“Are you happy now, the whole lot is ruined,” Viserys asked her, his voice thick with contempt.

“I’m sorry, I never meant... I’m sorry.” She scrambled to the floor to pick up the pieces.

“Get up, child.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her hands shaking, not sure what would come next, whether the sweat on her skin was from apprehension or anticipation. 

He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. “I said get up.”

His fingers gripped hard enough to leave bruises and when he pushed her towards the table, she only just turned in time to grab hold of it and stop herself from falling. She could barely catch her breath and her head spun for a moment.

“You are awfully clumsy, aren’t you, sweet sister?” He stood to her side and she didn’t dare turn to face him. “Your betrothed won’t like that. He will want a woman with grace and dignity not some childish girl who falls to her knees crying over the smallest things. Perhaps I should teach you some discipline.”

Dany turned her head and closed her eyes. She’d never heard the word used in that context but whenever Viserys talked of discipline, it always went the same way.

“One for each cup, I think,” he said, running a hand down her back and gathering the material of her dress in his fist. He pulled it up over her hips to expose her bare cheeks. He didn’t tell her to bend over and brace herself on the table; she knew this dance step by step.

“How many cups were there?” he asked her. 

“Six.” She could have lied but he would have known and it would have been worth twice what the honest answer got her.

“Good girl,” he muttered as he delivered the first slap, hard and fast and stinging, a shadow of the remaining five.

She cried out, not just for the pain. She kept her eyes closed so that she could try and separate what was happening. If she couldn’t see, she could draw lines between Viserys, the Dragon, the hot burn on her skin and the slow burn inside. Six was not enough. Six was nothing.

When the second one landed she screamed out, more than she needed to, trying to earn herself a better punishment. She knew she could play on his fear that someone would hear and find out about these games of his. He didn’t ever suspect he was just as much being played.

“Keep your mouth shut,” he instructed her, “or I shall keep it shut.”

The third one followed, almost to highlight his threat and she answered it, raw and guttural, just as threatening. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head up by it. The sharp tug ran through her whole body, making her gasp for breath.

“You’re hurting me,” she said, her voice breaking, indulging him.

He pulled at her hair again and she could see what he wanted to do flickering like fire in his eyes. Something in her growled in return, like a dragon had been awoken in her. He let her go and she fell forward back onto the table top, disappointed. She could almost hear his thoughts; she wouldn’t be worth anything used. This husband would want her pure, untouched, a maiden. He couldn’t have her, not how he wanted.

He gave her the last three slaps, almost too quickly, almost like he didn’t want to anymore. She had broken him too soon.

“See that you learn from this lesson, _sweet sister_.” He spat the words out like they tasted unpleasant. 

She stood, letting her dress fall back into place, like nothing had happened. Her knuckles white as her hands grasped the table tighter, the weight inside her dragging her down. He left without another word, fleeing from her and her small victory. She smiled to herself. It was a hollow victory, not exactly how she had wanted it but it was a victory over him nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> SPaG updated 09/11/2017.


End file.
